


Metamorphsis

by happyevraftr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Big Bang Challenge, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Plot Twist, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sarcastic Stiles, Sick Stiles, dramatic Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyevraftr/pseuds/happyevraftr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life isn’t easy for Stiles Stilinski. This is a truth he’d come to accept a long time ago, so it’s no surprise when an enemy pack shows up in town with a mysterious Alpha that’s hell bent on revenge. Things escalate quickly when Erica goes missing and Isaac is attacked by the new pack. As if that isn’t enough to handle, Stiles own body begins to betray him and he must decide whether to die as a human, or live as a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphsis

**Author's Note:**

> Set a few years in the future where everyone is in their Senior Year and things _had_ been relatively peaceful.
> 
> Warnings: sick!fic (cancer), violence, sexy times
> 
> Author: happyevraftr  
> Artist: puckboum [*art can be found here*](http://puckboum.livejournal.com/5415.html%20)
> 
> To puckboum: I have enjoyed working with you so immensely. Your interest and dedication to this project kept me motivated to give it the final touches it needed. The artwork you have created is perfect beyond words and I am so happy to of had the opportunity to work with you. For my first experience at a big bang, I can’t imagine a better experience. Thank you for being so fantastic!
> 
> To spacii: You encouraged and helped me with this fic more than you know. Thank you for being there for me as I whined about writer’s block and things not going how I wanted them to. Thank you for all your encouraging words and help with so many things. Having you there as a sounding board was a lifesaver!!
> 
> To baibaba: Thank you for all the work you did betaing the beginning of this fic. You helped me sort out the problems I knew I was having, but didn’t know how to fix! Without your help I wouldn’t have been able to get back on the right track. Thank you so very very much!! :)

  


  
[](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/banner2_zpsd0dbd107.png.html)   


“Stilinski!” Mr. Harris’ voice bounces off the classroom walls and rings in his ears, making Stiles wince and rub his temples a little harder.

“Yeah?” he asks, barely opening one eye. Why does the sun have to be so bright? 

“I’ve asked you the same question five times. While I know you’re mentally challenged,” the whole class erupts in little snickers and giggles at that, “you usually manage to pay attention half the time. Detention after school.” 

“Perfect. That’s my favorite place in the _whole world_.” Stiles says and lets his head fall to rest on his folded arms. It’s not like he doesn’t spend every other day in detention anyways. Saying Mr. Harris _really_ doesn’t like him would be the understatement of the century. No-- year!

“Hey, you ok?” Scott whispers behind him.

“Yup, I’m just peachy keen up here,” he mumbles. It feels like there’s a little evil man jumping around in his head, poking him with a really sharp needle. That’s a bit of exaggeration, but hey, you never know- tiny evil gnomes with needles could be the cause of headaches. After everything he’s seen in the past two years it wouldn’t surprise him. 

Intense pinpricks of pain stab all over his head and down his neck, flashing white behind his eyes and settling low in his stomach, making him nauseous. The palms of his hands are filled with a cold sweat, and he’s probably really pale; looking like death warmed over. He wants to throw himself off a cliff and stop this misery already, but after everything he’s survived that would be a sad way to go. 

Having a migraine is kind of like having werewolf hearing; every minute sound is deafening in his ears and sets him on edge. The rustle of the fall breeze against the window sounds like a hurricane, students whispering to each other is the equivalent of having a megaphone at his ear and the chalk sliding over the blackboard grates against his senses until he wants to cry from the pounding in his eardrums. 

“Mr. Harris?” comes Scott voice from behind him, way too close and too damn loud. 

“Yes, McCall?” he answers, and Stiles doesn’t even have to see his face to know it’s contorted in vehement dislike and impatience. 

“I’m pretty sure Stiles is about to lose his lunch all over your floor. He should probably go see the nurse.” 

He holds his breath in anticipation, hoping by some miracle Mr. Harris will give him a break just this once. 

“Yeah ok, get him out of here before he hurls,” is the reply. Bless Scott. If his head didn’t feel like someone was taking a jackhammer to it, he would have stood up, hollered and fist pumped the air. Instead he does an internal happy dance and tries not to flinch away when Scott helps him out of his seat. Every little touch feels like a painful shock to his system, skin sensitive from the awesome little fever he’s got going on. 

Cracking one eye open to just a slit, he sees Mr. Harris staring them down with a disapproving glare. Damn can he be scary. Stiles still isn’t convinced he’s not involved in the Supernatural bullshit in one way or another. Things may have quieted down since they fixed Jackson over a year ago, but he still keeps one eye on Harris at all times. He’d been right about Matt after all. 

Walking to the nurses office turns out to be a nightmare. The light drifts in through the windows and assaults his eyes, burning far too bright around the edges then filtering off into a haze he can barely see through. He swears he feels his heartbeat behind his eyes, and that is really not a comforting feeling. 

Bile stirs around threateningly in his stomach and he can feel it creeping up his throat. Yeah, he’s definitely not going to make it all the way there. He lets go of Scott and races, half blind, over to the closest trash can and wretches out the oh-so-delicious cafeteria macaroni and cheese he’d had earlier. 

“That’s seriously disgusting. I can’t even begin to describe how gross that smells.” Scott says sullenly. 

“It tastes just as appetizing,” Stiles quips and uses the back of his sleeve to wipe his mouth, the acidic waste burning his throat. Throwing up makes his stomach feel a little better, but the force of it has his head throbbing even worse and he’s not entirely sure he can stand up at the moment. 

“Fuck. This sucks,” he whines and sags into the trash can. This turned out to be such a fantastic day!

\\\\\\*~*~*///

“Stiles!”

He wakes up instantly and bolts upright on the bed, head swimming and vision blurry. 

“Huh? What?” he mumbles confused, looking around the room until he focuses on Jackson leaning casually against the doorframe. He seems perturbed with narrowed eyes, arms crossed and finger tapping restlessly against his arm.  


  
[ ](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/001copie_zps2a86aa78.jpg.html)   


  
“You’re going to miss practice if you don’t get your lazy ass to the locker room,” Jackson says, voice laced with irritation.

“Oh,” is his eloquent reply. It takes him a second to remember he’s in the nurses office, having been ordered to take a nap. The ibuprofen seems to of done its job well enough; he’s feeling loads better than he did earlier.. The pounding in his head has tapered off to a dull ache and he can actually see straight now.

Why Jackson would come looking for him instead of Scott he’s not really sure, but he’s too groggy to ask any questions. After wiping the sleep from his eyes he stands up and follows Jackson out of the room. They walk together in silence, Stiles not quite coherent yet and Jackson probably wanting to talk to him as little as possible. 

Regardless of the fact they’re pack now, they still don’t really like each other all that much. Stiles is just happy Jackson got his identity crisis out of the way and is a regular old werewolf (and isn’t it sad werewolf is the new normal) instead of a Kanima with some crazy vengeance seeking master. 

A shudder runs through him as he remembers how close they all came to biting the dust. As it is, not all of them made it out unscathed. Allison lost it after her mother died, then crossed the line into batshit crazy when Derek killed Gerard. Fortunately Mr. Argent had seen how out of control she was and moved them away; hopefully to take a break from the hunter lifestyle for a while. 

The hardest part of all that was watching Scott lose her. He hadn’t been himself for a really long time. They’d even had to chain him up during the full moon, lost without his anchor for the first time. It had taken months, but eventually his best friend started to come back to them. Stiles had a nagging suspicion it had something to do with Isaac, but he wasn’t going to ask.

Lost in his thoughts, he runs straight into a warm, solid, mass of something and blinks a few times before he realizes it’s a person. Jackson glares at him over his shoulder and then walks away to the other side of the locker room. He’s still such an asshole.

Practice is going to start in a few minutes so he has to rush to get geared up. The plus side to being a Senior is that he actually gets to play on a regular basis which is kind of nice. The adrenaline rush that comes with being on the field during a game is still a little bit terrifying, but seeing his dad embarrass himself with overly loud cheers and enthusiasm makes Stiles’ day.

“There you are. Everything ok?” Scott asks as Stiles slides up next to him by their lockers. 

“All rainbows and sunshine now,” he says as he pulls out his lacrosse gear and straps it on. “Did you have to send Jackson though? I think he genuinely wants to bite my head off.”

“Derek would never let that happen,” Scott says and then winces like he’s been pinched. “I mean, yeah-- I had to send him ‘cus coach is _still_ mad at me for the bad grades last year and if I’m late to practice who knows what’ll happen.”

“Because that made sense.” Stiles frowns in confusion, not really understanding what the fuck just happened, but lets it go, because honestly-- he doesn’t understand what Scott is saying half the time anyways and they need to get out on the field. 

“Time to get beat up and fail miserably!” Stiles exclaims as he slams his locker closed and rushes out the door. Everyone else is gathered on the field and he gives a small nod to Isaac and Boyd. Isaac smiles at him and runs over to Scott’s side, giving him a friendly pat on the back and starting up a conversation that Stiles can’t really hear. Boyd just nods back to him and stays seated on the bench. Being a werewolf didn’t really change Boyd all that much in Stiles opinion. He’s still kind of a loner, but he seems more comfortable with that; content with the family he has in pack. Plus he has Erica now.

“Pack meeting tonight.” Scott leans over and whispers in his ear. 

“Yesssss!” Stiles whoops and shakes his fist. Pack meetings are always twenty percent boring and then eighty percent fun. Boring because Derek gives the same speech about being a pack and what it means _every single time_ , and fun because after the boring is over they usually pile onto Derek’s couch and watch movies while eating pizza. It’s also the only time he actually gets to hang out as part of the pack because he’s not allowed at training sessions; which he thinks is totally unfair. 

Scott smiles at his reaction and is about to say something just before the coach joins them. 

“Alright girls, you know the drill. Suicides to start.”

Stiles is going through the warm up drills like a champ, until this weird sensation tingles down the base of his neck, spreads out through his shoulders and travels down his arm. It’s like he has no coordination control and keeps missing the ball. It’s extremely frustrating and he just can’t seem to get things together. 

“Stilinski, my mom could play better than you! What are you doing?” Coach yells at him from the sidelines. 

“Aw coach, I thought I was rocking it!” he yells back, wishing he could shake off whatever bad karma has landed him with a migraine and whatever the fuck this is all in one day. The rest of the practice isn’t much better; he’s constantly dropping the ball or tripping all over himself, even more than usual. It’s really annoying and by the end of practice he’s frustrated with himself and ready for the day to just be over already. 

He tunes out Coach’s in depth monologue (that doesn’t make all the much sense to be honest) about how much of a failure he is, and puts the practice behind him. 

“You alright?” Isaac asks on the walk back the locker room, face full of genuine concern. 

“m’great. Ready for the super secret gathering of the werewolf club. Do you know what we’re watching this time?” he asks. Derek always picks out the movie because he doesn’t think anyone else has good taste, which Stiles vehemently disagrees with. 

“Pretty sure I heard something about ‘Fast Five’” Scott mentions from his other side.

Stiles rolls his eyes and grins at that. “Why is that no surprise?” 

Of course Derek would pick another car movie. The guy’s a bit obsessed with fancy cars. He’s in love with his ‘stang and Stiles has to wonder how he ever stomached letting Scott drive it as a diversion two years ago. He’d asked Derek once why it was so important to him. He had gotten really quiet and somber, a sad smile turning up the corner of his lips as he said, “Laura liked cars. The mustang was hers.” 

Stiles hadn’t asked again after that. Derek was finally starting to heal and let go of the enormous baggage of guilt he carried around, but his family could still be a touchy subject, for obvious reasons.

“At least it’s supposed to be pretty good.” Isaac offers. “Better than that ‘Drive’ movie at least. I didn’t like that one.” 

The way Isaac screws his nose up in disgust makes Stiles laugh. The guy looks like an adorable puppy half the time with his baby face and mop of curly hair. His positive attitude and contagious smiles are good for a pack made up of broken hearts and lost souls. 

Back in the locker rooms he quickly strips down and heads to the showers. The heat of the of the water is like a balm over his frazzled nerves. He hasn’t felt like himself since he woke up this morning, but the water seems to be washing all of that away; catching onto his troubles, dragging them off his body, swirling down the drain and going far, far away. 

He takes a deep breath, letting the steam warm his lungs, and exhales slowly. Closing his eyes, he tries to force every muscle in his body to relax. When he finally feels the last bits of tension drop from his fingertips he turns off the shower and dries off, feeling much more refreshed than before. 

By the time he’s toweled off and gotten dressed everyone else has left and Scott’s sitting on the bench in front of their lockers on his phone; most likely playing temple run or doodle jump. Scott still has yet to beat his score and it’s been driving him crazy. 

“You’re never going to beat me,” Stiles says with a grin as he throws his stuff in the locker and waits for him to finish up. 

“I’m so close, just-- gah!” Scott shakes his phone and scowls at it like it’s the phones fault he failed. 

“You ready to go now?” Stiles asks as he walks towards the door. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott picks up his bag and follows after him. “You’re the one who took forever in the shower. Were you getting busy with yourself?” he asks with a conspiratorial wink. 

“Nope. Not today!” Stiles answers cheerfully. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Once they’re to his Jeep, Stiles sends a quick message to his dad letting him know he’s going to be out a little later than usual for a pack meeting. Things got a thousand times better between them once everything was out in the open and his dad understood why he had been lying so much and getting into trouble left and right. It felt good having things fixed between them. He always had the pack to count on, but his dad was all the blood family he had left and he wouldn’t be able to stand it if he lost him in any way. 

“So I think I have a crush on someone.” Scott randomly mentions from the passenger seat as they’re driving over to the renovated Hale house. Derek had rebuilt it once everything had calmed down and it was safe to come out of hiding. 

“Really?” Stiles asks, quirking one eyebrow. He’s dying to ask who, but this is the first person Scott’s mentioned since Allison and it’s kind of a huge fucking deal. 

“Yeah,” Scott replies, plastering this goofy smile on that Stiles’ hasn’t seen in over a year. 

It’s quiet for a long time until Stiles can’t take it anymore and blurts out, “So who’s the lucky one that gets the all encompassing devotion and true _wuvvvv_

  
[ ](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/002copie_zps413758c3.jpg.html)   


  
Stiles wants to push the subject, but if his best friend isn’t willing to tell him he has a big gay crush on Isaac yet, then that’s ok. He hasn’t told Scott he kind of, maybe, sort of has feelings for their Alpha. That info is on a need to know basis, and so far no one has made the list of ‘need to know’. Scott should really go for it though, because Stiles is one hundred percent sure Isaac is as gaga eyes for Scott just as much as Scott is for him. Stiles, on the other hand, has no shot in hell of ever being with Derek so it’s not that big of a deal.

“You moved on from Lydia yet?” Scott asks, tone teasing and light. 

It still makes Stiles wince internally though. After Peter worked some ghost hoodoo on her and forced her to bring him back to life they somehow fell in love during the whole kanima disaster. They said they needed some time to themselves and both disappeared after that. Not that any of them want Peter back, but the pack has been missing Lydia ever since. 

“Lydia was already a shot in the dark, and now that she’s gone well-- no, nobody else is interested in this irresistible Stilinski sex god. I’d say I’ll meet someone at college, but I doubt I’ll meet anyone at Beacon Hills Community College I don’t already know.” Stiles answers morosely. The truth of the matter is he’ll probably end up all alone. Boyd and Erica are already a thing, Isaac and Scott should just suck each other’s faces already, Jackson and Danny have been dancing around the fact Danny saved Jackson and what that means for over a year and Derek is bound to find some kickass Alpha werewolf lady to be his mate. 

He tries not to think about it, because the idea of being the odd man out even in the pack is too unbearable. 

“I’m sure you’ll find someone.” Scott says confidently, like he knows something that Stiles doesn’t. Which isn’t likely because, well- it’s Scott, but it still bothers him. It’s like he’s out of the loop or something. 

“Sure,” he says sarcastically just as they’re pulling into the Hale driveway. Every time he sees the renovated house it makes him smile. It’s a beautiful home with yellow siding, big windows and brick along the base. His father told him it looks exactly like the original before it burned down. 

The drive is littered with different vehicles and it seems they’re the last ones to get there so Scott rushes inside; Derek hates it when they’re late. Stiles on the other hand has this constant need to irritate his Alpha in any way possible, so he walks as slow as possible up the steps with a smirk on his face the whole time.

Erica and Boyd are squished together on the couch, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes like they can find the answers to the universe there. Gross. Jackson is spread out over a recliner that he dubbed as ‘Jackson’s Pack Meeting Seat’ from the very beginning of these little pow wows, Isaac is sitting in the other armchair and Derek is casually leaning against the fireplace mantle. 

“You’re late,” Derek says pointedly to him. 

“Stiles hasn’t been feeling good all day.” Scott volunteers. 

Derek gives him a concerned look and he hears Jackson whisper “pansy” under his breath. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles says offhandedly as he glares at Scott. Always had been a tattletale. He sits on the far end of the couch, leaving either a place squished in between the lovebirds and him or the floor. Not surprisingly Scott chooses to sit on the floor in front of Isaac, leaning back against the chair. 

Once they’re all settled in Derek scans all of them and takes a deep breath. Looks like he’s going with the dramatic speech tonight. 

“There’s another pack in town,” Derek says and the room immediately erupts in, “What?”, “Who?”, “Where are they from?”, “Are they friendly?” from everyone in the room. Derek patiently waits for them to get the questions out of their systems before answering.

“I don’t have the answer to any of those questions,” he begins. “I smelled them just on the outskirts of town on my morning run. I caught at least three different scents, but there could be more. They might not even cross into our territory, knowing it belongs to another Alpha.”

“What if they do?” Scott asks, sounding concerned.

“Then we find out what they’re here for. Unless they want to challenge me, they’ll respect this as my territory.” Derek says confidently. Erica looks a little worried at the idea of anyone challenging Derek and Stiles has to admit he’s right there with her. Derek may be a little incompetent at times, but he tries hard and things have actually been kind of amazing lately. They all have a home at the Hale house, a family and that would fall apart without their Alpha. 

“Stiles, I’d like you to do some research, maybe talk to your father, and see if there’s been any animal attacks in neighboring towns. Maybe as far as five hundred miles out. I want to get an idea if they’re aggressive” Derek says. 

“I’ll get right on that.” Stiles answers, wearily pushing on the couch to stand up.

“No, no. Were still going to have our movie night. It may not be anything and it’s been awhile since we’ve been together,” Derek answers. It’s a total lie because they just did this a few days ago, but Stiles assumes Derek gets lonely in this big old house with just him and Isaac, and would probably prefer it if the entire pack lived with him. 

Derek starts the movie and the tension in the room dissipates a bit. That is until Derek passes his usual chair in the corner, saunters across the room and plops down next to Stiles, wrapping an arm around him (ok, over the back of the couch-- but it was still around him!) Stiles cocks an eyebrow at him and is tempted to make a biting comment. 

Derek’s body is hot along the entire length of his side and he smells amazing, like pine and some kind of fancy cologne. Stiles wants to eat him. His body is freaking out; heart racing, pours sweating and lungs heaving. 

_‘Think of gross things.’_ he says to himself, knowing every other person in the room has super werewolf senses and they have to know something weird is going on with him. A bright blush rises on his cheeks and he squirms in his seat as his dick starts to thicken. 

_‘Puppies dying. Old naked people. Stop thinking about how Derek is right up next to you and he smells so good and-- fuck.’_

“Calm down,” Derek whispers in his ear, making him jump a foot off the couch. Scott turns and grins at him before turning back to the tv, but the rest of the pack ignore them. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the picture perfect of calm,” Stiles says as he scrunches his face up and shakes his head back and forth. Derek is being weird and Stiles seems to have landed is some alternate universe for the day.

“So that’s why your heart rate is faster than a jack rabbit?” Derek retorts, raising both eyebrows and smirking. Damn those kissable lips. 

“My heartrate is none of your business, thank you.” Stiles replies, glaring at Erica when she snort-giggles into her hand. 

Derek just sinks further into the couch, fingertips brushing over Stiles’ shoulder. 

Just.

What--

What the everloving fuck is going on? He stares at Derek like he’s grown a second head for a long time, until he finally accepts this as one of the weirdest, longest days of his life and turns back towards the tv. 

The movie is actually really good and he ends up getting drawn into the plot and excitement, temporarily forgetting about the scalding hot press of Derek’s body all along his own. It’s still there though; a constant buzz in the back of his head that makes his hands shake a little bit. He’s not used to being so close to Derek, not used to his attraction flaring up so badly. 

By the time the credits roll, Stiles realizes (much to his horror) that he’s relaxed into Derek’s side and is practically cuddling with him. They’re kind of over the “I’ll rip your throat out- with my teeth” phase, but Stiles still glances at Derek’s face to see if he’s mad or not. To his surprise, Derek looks the exact opposite of mad; he seems almost pleased and like he’s been caught off guard. Which still almost never happens.

“We’re heading over to my house.” Erica announces, no one mistaking what they’re going to do. Stiles swears they spend half their time doing it. It’s no wonder they’re not werebunnies rather than werewolves. “Keep us updated on the other pack,” she adds seriously. 

Derek stands up and sees them to the door, Stiles immediately missing the warmth at his side. Erica wraps Derek in a hug that makes his face scrunch up like he’s constipated, though he does return it. Derek would never say it, but anyone can see how protective he is of the pack.

“I should get going too.” Stiles says and stands, stretching his arms out wide. “Ready Scott?” 

“I think I’m going to stay here tonight. Isaac and I were gonna play some Halo. You wanna join?” Scott says while standing up.

Stiles barely contains the _‘suuuure....that’s what you’re gonna do’_ from slipping out his mouth and instead says, “Nah. I wanna talk to my dad and do a little research tonight. I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.” 

He heads towards the door and gives Derek his traditional good night nod, only to be pulled into the most awkward hug of his life. A small “oomf!” escapes his lips and all the air goes rushing out his lungs. Besides the horrid pool ordeal, he’s never held Derek in an embrace before and it’s a little weird. However, he’s not going to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity and wraps his arms tightly around Derek’s back and pulls him in closer. Stiles lets his head drop to Derek’s shoulder and nuzzles into his neck. 

After the migraine and lacrosse, the comfort is actually kind of wonderful and he lets out a contented sigh. Maybe Derek’s werewolf senses were letting him know Stiles needed this like whoa. Whatever the reason, he’s not going to complain- no matter how out of character it is. 

When they pull apart, Stiles smile splits his face from ear to ear. “Uh, thanks?”

Derek just clears his throat, nods and steps back a little. “Let me know what your dad says.”

Stiles grin widens and he wants to laugh at how emotionally constipated the sourwolf can be. After three years he finally gives a hug and he looks like he wants to crawl out of his own skin afterwards. 

“Will do,” Stiles says and gives a little wave to Isaac, Scott and Jackson still in the other room. “See you guys!” 

They all murmur goodbye, and Stiles is out the door and on the way home.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

“Why are we looking for werewolf attacks in other towns?” Stiles dad asks, one eyebrow crooked and a _‘what shenanigans are you guys up to now’_ look.

“Derek told us he thinks there’s another pack on the outskirts of Beacon Hills and he wants to do a little background research. That’s all,” Stiles says with a shrug, trying to brush it off as no big deal. He should really know better by now. 

“That’s all,” John says with a disbelieving roll of his eyes. 

“For now at least,” Stiles answers honestly.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on all the local towns since the animal attacks started and everything’s been quiet for months.” His dad pulls up a chair next to his desk and sits down, pointing to the screen. “You’ll want to widen the search.”

He nods and types in new parameters. They wait in silence as the computer works, the little hourglass flipping over and over. Nothing comes up and Stiles grits his teeth in frustration. 

“If they wanted to sneak in unavoided, they wouldn’t take the risk to get noticed.” Stiles muses out loud. “They would know we were looking for them.” He redoes the search once more, expanding it to include the entire United States. He holds his breath in anticipation and exhales sharply when the results appear on the screen.

“My God.” His father echoes his thoughts. “They’ve been making their way across the entire country.”

Little red dots of attacks matching their criteria light up the map, starting in West Virginia and moving in a steady line all the way until Missouri where it suddenly stops. No doubt trying to stay under the radar.

“The question is, doing what?” 

“I want to be kept in the loop on this Stiles. I mean it.” John says seriously, concern etched on his features.

“Consider yourself in all the loopiness. What are we going to do?” he asks.

“You’re going to do nothing. I’m going to brief my deputy’s in the morning and do whatever I can to stop another psycho from taking apart my town.” Conviction drips from John’s voice and he stands from the computer.

“Get some sleep, you have school in the morning.” he admonishes as he closes the laptop and walks out of the room.

Yeah. Get some sleep. As if that’s possible with his mind buzzing from all the possibilities of what new threat that could be coming to kill them. He’s tired of being in danger all the time. His dad being Sheriff is stressful enough; wondering if he’s going to come home every night. Now he has the entire pack on his mind. Losing any of them would be too much. A loss felt so acutely he’s not sure he’d recover. They’re family.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

The alarm in the morning scares the shit out of him. Limbs flail every which way and his heart leaps up in his throat as he tries to get the damn thing to shut up. Eventually the palm of his hand connects with the snooze button and he melts back down into the bed. When it goes off again seven minutes later he begrudgingly drags himself out of bed.

A quick shower and an uncooked poptart later he’s out the door and on his way to pick Scott up. Not that it’s much of a surprise, but Scott isn’t really a morning person so he doesn’t mention the imminent danger the other pack surely presents. Instead they jam out to Katy Perry and eat their respective breakfasts in silence. 

Before first period starts he shoots Derek a quick text message. 

**Stiles:** _Have news. Need to talk after school._

**Derek:** _I’ll be there._ Is the immediate reply. 

School is school for the most part. The pack hangs out during lunches and still manages to garner odd looks here and there. To an outsiders view they must look like a weird collection of people; jocks, nerds and outcasts all mixed together. They might be a pack of misfits but they make it work, no one else needs to understand. 

His day goes to hell during fifth period Spanish class. The blackboard goes fuzzy and he can’t make it focus to save his life. The words all blur together and spin until he’s not sure which way is up anymore. Blinking a few times, he looks down at his desk and tries to pick up his pencil. He swears his hand is resting on the utensil, but he doesn’t feel it, like it’s out of his reach or something. 

He shakes his head to try and clear it, but that ends up being a terrible idea. Nausea swells in his stomach and he’s really light headed. He can feel his eyes roll up into the back of his head and the world goes black.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

_“Stiles.”_

_A voice sounds like a melody in his ear. The soft tone coats over him and makes him smile. How nice of Derek to invade his dreams. Hmm, yes a shirtless Derek. That would be nice. Maybe a little red in his eyes, cus if he’s honest with himself--_

“I like it rough!” he exclaims as he bolts awake. It takes a minute for the room to slide into focus and the figure of the nurse standing in front of him to become clear. Her hips are cocked and an eyebrow raised, clearly not amused at his antics.

“This is the second time in as many days you’ve been in here to see me with some pretty serious health issues Stilinski.” she admonishes.

“I know. I think it’s all the stress I’ve been under lately,” he admits. “Or it could be a case of the body snatchers.”

“I’m going to advise you to see a doctor and maybe have some tests done. The migraine and dizziness aren’t normal.” She says seriously, true concern etching her soft features.

“Yeah alright. I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically. Like he has the time to go see a doctor. Besides, he’s sure it’s nothing. His body has been through worse. 

“You’re free to go as long as you’re feeling ok,” she says and steps aside.

“Thanks!” he proclaims and bolts from the office. Derek is just around the corner and makes him jump.

“Sheesh man! I’ve told you to cut it out with the creepy werewolf stuff. You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“You’re sick?” Derek asks, always straight to the point. A man of few words he is. Stiles doesn’t want to over analyze the frown lines covering his brow or the way his lips settle into a tight line, but it kind of looks like Derek is worried. Which, is kind of normal considering he’s part of the pack, but it seems like _more_ somehow.

“Nah, just a headache and some dizzy spells. No big deal,” he answers. Part of him is really tempted to reach out and smooth the furrowed skin.

It looks like Derek is about to say something else on the subject, so he quickly changes it. “My dad and I found what looks to be animal attacks starting from the east coast and moving all the way across the states. They drop off in Missouri, but we think that was just to avoid alerting us. We’re not sure why though.”

Red flashes in Derek’s eyes and he looks really angry and worried. “Recruiting. They were recruiting,” he says and bolts down the hallway.

Great. Just what they need. A huge pack of werewolves that have decided to invade their turf for one reason or another. Stiles doesn’t even care why. He just wants them gone. Wants the peace of mind back he had for those few precious months. 

He sighs and rubs at his temples, feeling another headache coming on. Just what he needs.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

Two weeks go by and nothing much has changed. They don’t know who is in town or what they’ve come for. The pack is on edge not knowing who or what they’re dealing with. Derek has withdrawn into himself again, reminding Stiles too much of the guy he had met all those years ago. He works the pack until they are worn down to the bone with exhaustion. Nothing has happened yet though, not a peep from the mysterious pack that seems to be circling their borders. No one knows what they’re waiting for, but it’s obvious an attack is inevitable.

Stiles has his own problems to deal with. He’s been in the nurses office at least every other day with a headache or dizzy spell. He’s come to realize he also has a distinct loss of hand eye coordination and he’s not really sure what to make of it. His own body fucking him over is really just too much to deal with so he does his best to ignore that extra suck fest going on in his life.

Until he can’t anymore. The nurse threatens to call his father if he doesn’t seek medical help and he just can’t do that to his dad. The Sheriff’s station has been abuzz lately with the potential for increased “animal attacks” to the area and he doesn’t want to put anymore on his plate. Especially after what they went through with his mother’s sickness.

So he goes to the doctor. He’s eighteen now so they can’t legally disclose any information he doesn’t want them to, so he figures it can’t hurt anything. The waiting room is stale and full of sickly looking people. A middleaged woman to his left is coughing so hard Stiles is certain she’s bound to cough up a lung.

He’s tapping his foot incessantly and about to call it quits when the door on the side of the room opens and a nice nurse calls out his name. He jumps out of his seat and quickly follows her through the door and into a long white hallway. It makes him itch and triggers this need to escape. Doctors and hospitals of any kind make him want to crawl out of his own skin. Ever since his mother's death they put him on edge. He’s already spent too much of his life in these kinds of places. Death seems to hang around every corner and cling to every surface. He hates it.

“Have a seat,” the nurse motions and he jumps up on the examining table. She takes his blood pressure and temperature, all the normal pre-doctor stuff that takes your mind off the fact you’ve already had to wait an hour for the fancy guy in the white coat and are probably going to have to wait at least another thirty minutes.

When she’s done, the pretty nurse smiles and says, “Doctor Miller will be with you in just a minute.”

He nods in understanding and tries not to let his feet walk him right out of the office. The medical diagrams on the wall and models sitting on the counter do little to distract him and only puts him more on edge. He can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Just as he’s about to push off the examination table, anxiety curling tight around the base of his spine, the door opens and the doctor walks in. 

“Hello there Stiles, how are we feeling today?”

Ugh. Doctor talk. All schmooze and class. He fucking hates it.

“Well, not good otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” he retorts, annoyed. 

“Why don’t you tell me your symptoms,” the doctor says and sits down in the wheely chair in the corner. Stiles fights the urge to roll his eyes and proceeds to tell the doc all about the dizziness, extra clumsiness and headaches. The more he talks, the deeper the guy frowns. By the time he’s done, he’s worked himself close to a panic attack at the doctor’s reaction.

“I--” the doctor pauses and scribbles something on his clipboard, “am going to send you over to the emergency room for some tests.

Tests? Emergency room? Warning bells start going off and Stiles thinks he might be sick.

“I’m sure there’s nothing to be worried about, but I just want to rule some things out before proceeding with a diagnosis.”

Stiles can’t hear anything else he says because he knows. He _knows_ that ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to be worried about’ might as well means he’s dying. It’s doctor talk for ‘this is really fucking bad.’ Numbly, he takes the piece of paper and checks out with the secretary at the front. He can’t think of a single thing as he makes the drive over to the local hospital. There’s still a chance there’s nothing wrong, but his instincts tell him he should be worried. That these tests are going to reveal nothing good.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

He sits in the hospital parking lot for a good fifteen minutes before he has enough courage to get out of his car and walk towards his least favorite place in the world. Unfortunately he’s unable to hold back the bile that makes it’s way up his throat, spewing it into the shrubbery outside.

Each step feels like an accomplishment, body heavy and unwilling to move forward. Eventually he checks in with the nurse and is instructed to once again have a seat. Stupid fucking doctors. Don’t they know that sitting and waiting is the absolute worst thing you can do when it feels like your whole body is shaking apart with stress and worry? Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

Waiting to find out what the fuck is wrong with him. 

After forty minutes of nearly losing his mind, his name is finally called and he’s put through a series of test. His blood is drawn, he’s hooked up to machines, x-rays are taken and he even has to get a cat scan. Those are the worst inventions in the history of the world. Put an ADHD kid inside a machine and tell them they have to remain perfectly still for fifteen minutes. Because that’s possible.

When it’s all said and done they make him wait some more. At this point he’s exhausted and ready to go home and crawl into his bed and sleep the awful day away. His head is starting to throb and his vision is going blurry around the edges. He needs to get home before the migraine hits him full force. He knows from experience it’s not pretty when it does. 

The doctor eventually joins him, looking morose. The sight makes his stomach tighten and nerves return full force. Somethings wrong.

“What is it?” he asks, wanting to get to the point.

The doc flips off the light and puts some images up on the x-ray display. Using a finger, he circles around a big white spot on the picture. “This is a softball size tumor inside your brain.”

All air whooshes out of Stiles lungs and he can’t get it back. 

“It’s putting pressure on your brain which is why you’ve been getting headaches, nausea and dizziness.”

Cancer. He has cancer. His mom died from cancer.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

He’s not entirely sure how long he sits on the edge of his bed staring off into space. The glass floor on his unstable world falls out from underneath him and he’s falling with no end in sight. He’s _dying_.  


  
[](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/003copie_zps0a14c3ae.jpg.html)   


The doctor had explained that is was inoperable. They wanted to make him go through chemotherapy, but he refused. He’s seen what that does to people. Watched as his mother lost all her hair, became sickly thin and slowly slipped away.

He can’t die though. Obviously he doesn’t want to, but more importantly, he can’t. There’s no way his dad would survive this again. Who would take care of him if Stiles is gone? Who would make sure he eats right and keeps his cholesterol down, makes sure he doesn’t work too many extra hours or get too lonely.

Stiles tries to swallow, but it’s difficult to do around the lump in his throat. Derek flashes in his mind and he knows how this is going to end. He’s going to become the one thing he never wanted to be. He’s still going to die in a way, going to give up his humanity. He’ll have to learn how to control himself, make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone. The only comfort he has is that Derek will be a good Alpha. Make sure he doesn’t lose himself. 

He tries to picture himself as a werewolf and something inside him snaps. He just can’t handle it anymore. Six months. He still has a little time. He pushes the issue to the back of his head and tamps it all the way down; pretending it doesn’t exist. It’s too much, too damn much for him to deal with. He’s not prepared to make these kinds of decisions. 

Everything goes numb and eerily quiet inside his head; his mind's way of protecting him, shutting itself down. 

Six months.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

The next several days pass in a blur. Stiles does his best to distract himself, but he doesn’t do a very good job. His head is still stuck back in the examination room, replaying the word “tumor” over and over again. He dreams of himself with sharp teeth, glowing yellow eyes and a bloodied mouth.

He’s about to drown in his panic, but then Erica doesn’t show up to school one Monday. Boyd doesn’t know where she’s at and nobody else has heard from her since the pack meeting on Friday night. The entire pack ditches school and suddenly Stiles forgets about his problems, too worried and scared for Erica. Wondering what could have happened to her. 

They rush to Derek’s house, Stiles pulling up the rear when they suddenly all stop; clogging up the doorway. 

“What?” Stiles asks as he pushes through them to the front. His heart seizes in his chest as he takes in Derek pinned to the wall by his wrists and ankles with silver spikes. There’s blood rolling down his arms and legs, dripping off his feet and pooling on the floor. His head lolls to the side, lax and far too still. Stiles’ gut twists and it’s like he’s the one pinned to that wall. Unable to move. For a brief moment, he thinks Derek’s dead, but then he slowly raises his head and smiles at them before passing out again. 

The sign of life spurs them all to action. Jackson and Scott run forward, remove the stakes and gently lower him to the ground. Stiles finally finds his feet and runs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He rushes back to the other room and cradles Derek’s head in his lap. With shaking hands he helps Derek drink the water down, grateful to see his wounds already starting to heal now that the silver is gone.

“They took her.” Derek rasps out.

Boyd immediately wolfs out and is about to run out the door when Derek yells at him to stop in full Alpha voice. Boyd freezes and looks back with the most broken look Stiles has ever seen.

“We’ll hunt them together.” Derek says and Stiles feels vindicated already, knowing anyone on the receiving end of Derek’s wrath will get what they deserve. He just hopes they’re able to find Erica in time.

“Who did this to you?” Isaac asks.

Nearly fully recovered, Derek sits up and twists his sore wrists around in circles. “No one significant from their pack. Around fifteen to twenty betas though. I killed seven of them and Erica got a couple, but it was too many by ourselves.”

“They want us to come after them.” Scott says thoughtfully. “They’re using her to bait us, lure us on to their ground. We’ll be more vulnerable that way.”

“Are you saying we should just leave her there to die?” Boyd growls and his muscles ripple, itching for a fight. 

“No. I’m just saying we need to be careful. We’re playing into their hand and if we’re not cautious we’ll all end up dead and that doesn’t help anybody.”

“He’s right.” Derek says. “We need to find out where they’re staying and scout things out before we run in blindly. They all stand and he puts a reassuring hand on Boyd’s shoulder. “She’s pack. I promise you we’ll do everything to get her back.” 

Derek turns to Stiles and gives him an apologetic looks. “You’ll have to stay behind. We’ll need to track their scent. Do what you can from here, try and figure out where they could be staying. Someplace big. 

He nods in understanding and watches as Jackson, Isaac, Scott, Derek and Boyd run from the house, shifting as they hit the woods. For the first time ever he allows himself to imagine being a werewolf as a good thing. No longer having to sit back on dangerous missions or be worried about getting killed as the human. He could be out there right now helping the pack track down their attackers. He could help save Erica.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

His dad is sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey when he gets home. That can’t be good. “What’s up?”

“Well you skipped school today, and apparently you’ve been in to see the nurse on a consistent basis. Is there something you’re not telling me?” 

The reminder of this disease spreading out and taking over his body is unwelcome and he shies away from it, trying to keep his mental walls firmly in place. The pack needs him and now isn’t the time to have a break down. He still has time, Erica probably doesn’t.

“Erica and Derek were attacked. She was kidnapped and now the pack is out looking for her. I literally just found out which is why I skipped today. None of us knew where she was. As far as the nurse thing, I’ve just been a little dizzy. Nothing to worry about, just been stressed with the pack in town.” 

He knows he should probably tell his dad the truth, he hates lying to him. Thought he didn’t have to anymore now that the big werewolf secret was out of the bag. The fact that his son is dying would break him though and Stiles is already broken enough for the both of them.

John narrows his eyes and looks him over appraisingly. “Ok. No more skipping school though. Go do what you have to, but stay out of danger. Let the werewolves handle their business. You’re a lot more fragile than them.”

Oh how he knows that so well. “I’ll be careful. Always am.” They both know it’s a lie, but they pretend it isn’t. Stiles is no hero, but he knows how to do the right thing; how to protect his friends and family no matter the cost. 

The conversation leaves a sour taste in his mouth as he climbs the stairs. He’s going to have to deal with this thing growing inside him sooner rather than later. He can’t allow his dad to figure out what’s actually happening. He takes a shaky breath as he tries to imagine what it would feel like to have Derek’s fangs sinking into his flesh. On the exhale he lets the image go.

For now he has Erica to think about. He researches for hours, but doesn’t find anything of much use. The area Derek first sniffed them out at is miles upon miles of sprawling forest. There’s no abandoned buildings or places that would make good hideouts. The only thing he has to go on is that they would have to be close to a fresh water source. Regardless, there’s still several different streams that branch off in multiple directions.

His phone lights up and vibrates loudly against his desk. It’s a text from Derek that reads-

**Derek:** _Meet at Deatons. Now._

Worry swells in his chest. Someone must be hurt. 

A wave of nausea hits him and he empties the contents of his stomach into his wastebasket. Gross. His throat feels like it’s on fire from the stomach acids and eyes burn from the raunchy smell. Doing even little tasks seems to take his breath away and leaves him feeling dizzy and drained. That doesn’t matter though, can’t matter. He’s got somewhere to be.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

“Fuck you! Get out of my way!”

Stiles walks into the vets office to find Derek guarding the door to the operating room with Scott wolfed out and in his face.

A pained howl that sounds ripped from a raw throat echos from the other room. It makes Scott growl and try to slash at Derek.

Derek snatches his wrist mid-air and snarls back. “You need to calm down and let Deaton work.”

“What happened?” Stiles asks, stepping in-between the two and pushing them apart. They both step back willingly, neither wanting to accidently hurt Stiles with their claws. Stiles figured this out long ago and has since been their mediator when Scott flies off the handle and decides to take it out on Derek. Old habits die hard he supposes.

“We got too close to their camp. A couple of them ambushed us. Nothing we couldn’t handle but Isaac got hurt in the process. One of them had a knife tipped with wolfsbane.” Derek answers but keeps his eyes glued on Scott over Stiles shoulder.

“Well that’s just lovely! He going to be ok?” Stiles asks.

Derek nods yes in response. Stiles turns around at that and puts a hand on Scott’s shoulder. He has a dizzy moment and takes a second to steady himself before continuing. “He’s going to be alright. Let’s go get some air.”

Scott shakes his head vehemently. “Not leaving him.”

Stiles sighs in understanding. He wouldn’t leave Derek either. 

He still decides to get some fresh air on his own, because the nassau hasn’t left yet and he’s unsure how long he’ll be able to stay standing on his own. He sags against the wall and breathes in the humid autumn air. He’s exhausted and his vision is swimming.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you? You smell different you know.” 

Derek’s voice surprises him.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t know how to. There’s been no doubt in his mind where this was all heading as soon as he heard the news, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready. Not ready to give up life as he currently knows it, not ready to tell his father he’s a werewolf, just plain not ready. So instead he asks, “What do I smell like?”

Silence engulfs them for a while.  


  
[](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/004copie_zps79c1161f.jpg.html)   


Then Derek moves to go back inside. “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.”

Stiles pushes off the wall and takes a step forward. “Derek, what do I smell like?”

“Death. You smell like death.” He says before walking back into the building.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Strong, overwhelming and stealing the breath from his very lungs.

There’s a reason he’s never asked for the bite before. He likes being human. He doesn’t want to lose himself to the wolf. He watched as Scott struggled with the transition. Hell, Scott had almost killed him in the beginning. There’s no way he wants to put people in his life at risk like that. Stiles has no business being dangerous.

He doesn’t have a choice though. He knows that all way down to his very tired bones, but there’s still a part of him that’s ignoring the inevitable. Obviously the pack isn’t going to ignore it. Not for much longer anyways. If there’s anything true about Derek it’s that he’s nosey when it involves the well being of his pack. If someone’s in danger, he’s the first to figure it out. Turns out he’s a pretty freaking awesome Alpha when he pulls his head out of his ass.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

“We’re attacking tomorrow night at dusk. I thought you should know, but I don’t want you anywhere close to the fight. Too dangerous.” Derek says over the phone. The call had woken him up from a much needed nap. School had sucked today. More migraines and he had to deal with Scott being all clingy with a perfectly fine Isaac.

“We still don’t know exactly what we’re up against. The Alpha hasn’t shown themselves since we started watching their camp.” Derek continues.

There’s a long pause before Derek speaks again. “Promise me you won’t try to come.” 

They both know there’s no way that’s ever going to happen. Stiles could have one foot in the grave, which he kind of does, but he’d still be there. Still standing in the line of fire to protect his pack. Like how he was there to douse Peter in flames, to keep Derek afloat in a pool for two hours and to take Danny right into a fight with the Kanima to try and save Jackson’s life. Stiles has always been there, and he always will be. He’s pack.

“Yeah ok.” He lies. He’s been lying a lot lately and it makes his stomach turn. He hates it.

“I mean it Stiles.” Derek says gruffly.

“Yeah, yeah I know. No running into danger for the breakable human. Trust me I have your speech memorized so no need to rehash it.” 

Derek sighs and hangs up on him. A bad habit of his Stiles still hasn’t been able to break.

As he drifts in and out of consciousness he thinks over their plan to attack the pack’s base. He’s not entirely sure what he can do to help them, but he knows he has to try. Part of him thinks he should toughen up and ask for the bite already. He would, but knows the last thing they need right now is a baby werewolf running around. If he couldn’t control himself he would just be a liability in getting Erica back, not a help.

Perhaps he could use his humanity to help the group one last time. That seemed to be the key the last time he used some of Dr. Deaton’s mojo. Maybe the Dr. will have something else he could use. 

His dad isn’t going to be happy about all this, but Stiles is pretty certain he will understand in the end. Heck, his dad would probably be right there on the front lines too if he knew what was about to happen. Which is why Stiles isn’t going to tell him. Too many people’s lives are at risk already.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

This isn’t the first time Stiles has put his life on the line for the pack. Certainly won’t be the last either. He’ll just be a little more durable next time. That is if he lives through this ordeal. Which he’s kind of determined to. Leaving his dad still isn’t an option no matter the reason.

His hands shake as he pushes through the bushes.The map to the pack’s location shakes in his hands and the satchel Deaton gave him bounces against his side with each and every purposed step. It’s the same thing Lydia had used to render Derek unconscious. The plan (if he can really call it that considering it’s so ill advised, impractical and unlikely to work) is to find the Alpha and knock them out. The hope is that with their Alpha taken down the rest of the pack will scatter. With all the betas being new recruits their won’t be that much loyalty amongst them. They’re not a family, not like Stiles’ pack.

His stomach growls and he’s worried it’s going to give his position away. He’s been hungry for days, but unable to keep anything down. He’s losing weight rapidly, yet another sign his body is giving up on him. It wouldn’t really bother him, except he’s worried he’s not going to be strong enough to see this through. Determination will only get him so far. 

Howls fill the night air and Stiles knows he must be getting close. In addition to the powder, Deaton helped him perform a cloaking spell. A way to keep him off the radar of supernatural creatures by muffling his scent and sounds. Great for slipping past a huge enemy werewolf pack, not so great that it does the same for his own pack. He’s going at this alone. A risk he’s willing to take if it gets them all out alive. 

The woods begins to thin out until it comes to a clearing much like where Derek used to hang out. Rather than an abandoned subway station they’re holing up in a rundown factory. Stiles eyes widen at the sheer amount of werewolves loitering around outside the building. There’s got to be at least fifty of them walking around. Some of them old, some young, all of them looking on guard and ready to pounce.

Stiles is just about to slink across the yard and into the building when another howl fills the silence. 

Jackson.

He’s close too.

All the werewolves freeze and listen intently. Their heads cock to the side and Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if their ears were actually twitching in an attempt to hone their supernatural hearing. His heart races in his chest as he watches more than half the werewolves shift and begin to snarl. The clearing reverberates with the pure power emanating from them all; muscles strung tight and ready to attack.

Another howl and the majority of the wolves sink down to all fours and bolt off into the woods; more animal than human. 

Stiles knows what this is. Jackson is the fastest among them and this is a diversion. He can see the strategy the the baby werewolves can’t through their primal instincts to hunt and destroy the threat. They’ve made a critical strategic error in leaving their camp nearly wholly unguarded. Derek and the rest of his pack will be here soon.

Stiles is running out of time. 

With one last steadying breath he steps from the safety of the brush and moves through the shadows until he’s flush with the side of the building. The metal is cool against his back and helps to steady him. There’s a distinct fear of failure coursing through him, threatening to tear him apart with the sheer force of it. He gathers his hands into fists to stop the shaking and peers around the corner.

The few wiser werewolves that decided to stay back are still wholly distracted. They’re fully shifted and not taking their eyes off the perimeter. It gives Stiles the opportunity to slink around the corner and slip inside the door. The knot in his stomach loosens a little when he makes it safely inside. He had no idea what would be waiting for him and he’s relieved to find it’s not another army of werewolves. 

The room he’s in is huge; a big empty space filled with old machinery that’s covered in dust and rust. It’s eerily quiet and shadows dance over the walls. It feels a lot like he’s stepped into a horror film, but that should be reassuring-- the virgins never die, right? Right.

Stiles convinces his legs to start moving again, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. He sticks to the walls as much as possible to avoid being surprised attack from the sides or behind. If he can keep the element of surprise then he’ll still have a chance.

Eventually he finds a door that’s marked “Office”. 

This is it. He can feel it. 

With his stomach leaping into his throat he reaches forward, slowly twists the handle and pushes on the door. It opens into a dark stairwell. There’s another door somewhere at the top, with harsh light spilling out into the hallway.

Stiles clenches his eyes shut and bites his lip. Of course the place where the Alpha is hiding gives him about a zero survival rate and little chance of retreat. Throw sarcastic human Stiles with ferocious Alpha werewolf into a confined stairwell and he can tell you which one will come out the victor every single time.

It’s not him.

His head snaps up when he hears snarls, yipping and howls coming from outside. The pack’s here. He’s doesn’t have anymore time.

Decision made, he bounds up the stairs two at a time. He stops just in front of the door. Through the glass panelling he sees a rundown office that’s been filled with newer furniture. It doesn’t seem like anyone’s inside though. He shoves his hand into the pouch and grabs a fistful of the magic powder.

_‘I can do this,’_ he tells himself as he forces the door open and steps inside. 

Nothing. 

There’s no one there!

Stiles wants to throw his head back and scream in frustration. 

He’s about to run back outside when he hears a small whimper coming from the far side of the room. All he sees are old shelves, but there’s something off. He goes over to them and paces back and forth, trying to figure out what it is he isn’t seeing.

Another whimper.

“Erica?” he whispers as he puts the dust back into the satchel.

He puts his ear up next to the shelf, and that’s when he sees them. Deep grooves in the floor like something’s been dragged over it repeatedly. Stiles looks at the shelf wide eyed. There’s something- someone behind it.

The problem being he has no idea how to move them on his own. He’s not that strong on a good day, let alone with how sick he’s been getting. Frantically he looks around the office for something, anything, he can use. 

There’s chains in the corner. He rushes to them and picks them up, only to recoil and nearly drop them. They’re covered in blood. Stiles has to fight down a wave of nausea. If they’ve hurt Erica---

Putting the thought aside, he rushes back to the shelf and looks for a way to attach them. For once tonight luck seems to be on his side and he finds a small hole in the metal from years of deterioration. He threads the chains through it and steps back.

Now to not kill himself via falling shelf. If this works it’s going to cause a whole lot of commotion and bring way too much attention to his location. Highly unadvisable but also completely unavoidable. 

Even with the new leverage it takes Stiles turning around and using all his strength to pull and tug before the shelf tilts on it’s edge and begins to topple over. He’s able to jump out of the way just in the nick of time as the huge metal shelf goes careening towards the floor; making a huge crashing sounds as it hits the ground. 

When the dust settles Stiles sees Erica chained to the wall, hands and feet bound and mouth gagged. Other than being unconscious, she doesn’t seem to be hurt otherwise.

“Oh-- oh my god! Erica!” Stiles rushes forward and is a flurry of movement as he tries to figure out how to get her out of the restraints. Someone must have heard all the noise he made and his pulse is throbbing; veins flooded with adrenaline and fear as he feels their time slipping away.

He digs through his backpack, trying to remember how to breath and focus, until he finds his lockpick. With unsteady hands he tries to pick the locks on her cuffs. It’s not working!

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He tries again and feels a small victory when a small ‘clink’ fills the room and the cuff falls open. Erica’s arms sags down to her side and Stiles has to refrain from whooping in excitement. 

After that it doesn’t take him long to bend down and undo both her feet and finally the last cuff on her other arm. He does his best to cushion her fall, but he doesn’t have enough strength to hold her up and they both go tumbling to the floor.

Stiles sits up and pulls her into his lap, removing the wolfsbane soaked rag from her mouth. 

“Erica, you need to wake up. I can’t carry you out of here and we have to go get the pack.” He pats at her cheek gently, then a little more firmly when she still doesn’t move. 

“Fuck!” Stiles exclaims.

Footsteps sound on the stairs and Stiles head pops up. They’re sitting ducks up here. With weak and protesting arms he drags them a few feet until they’re underneath the desk. Just as pulls Erica’s legs all the way under he hears at least two people enter the room. He’s fairly certain his heart stops in his chest.

“Shit! The prisoner’s gone!” Someone yells. Someone male and younger Stiles would guess by the panicked chord in their voice.

“Boss lady isn’t going to like this,” another male says. He has a Boston accent and his voice is lower, steadier, gruffer-- deadlier. It makes a shiver run down Stiles spine and he knows If they’re caught he’s the one he has to take down first. He listens closely, trying to keep track of that man’s footsteps in particular.

They both round the desk and Stiles holds his breath as he sees the bottom of their legs and feet come into view. They seem to be inspecting the fallen shelf and empty shackles. 

_‘Please don’t see us, please don’t see, please don’t see us.’_ Stiles repeats like a mantra in his head, clinging onto Erica with everything he’s got. 

“You notice it doesn’t smell like anyone’s been here?” The young one asks.

“What, you think she walked out of here on her own?” The Boston guy retorts. “Come on, we got to go report this.”

They walk back around the desk and down the stairs. Stiles doesn’t let go of the breath he’d been holding until the last echo of their footsteps fades away. In an instant he’s out from under the desk and dragging Erica with him.

He’ll drag her all the way out of this hell hole if he has to.

He’s attempting to do just that when Erica moans and her eyelashes begin to flutter. Stiles drops her arms and falls to his knees by her face. “Hey there sleeping beauty, nice of you to join me.”

Erica sits up quickly, then falls back on her elbows and shakes her head slightly. “Ugh.”

“Don’t move too quick. They’ve got you drugged up on something. You need to listen to me though. We have to get you out of here and find a way to let the pack know. They’re outside fighting right now and lets just say they have a better chance of winning the lottery than all getting out alive.”

“Stiles?” Erica asks through groggy eyes.

“Nope, it’s Batman. Come on, can you stand?” Stiles moves to stand in front of her and picks up both her arms, tugging until she finally pulls back and stands up. She sways on her feet a little and Stiles ducks under one of her arms. He forces himself to stand still until they’re both standing steady on two feet. 

“Okay, we’re going to try walking now,” Stiles says aloud- whether to himself or Erica he’s not entirely sure. 

Ever so slowly they walk forward until they reach the stairs. Each step seems to take an hour, but they keep moving forward at a snails pace. When they’re halfway down three werewolves step into the doorway at the base of stairs.

Stiles eyes go wide, and the next sequence of events seem to happen in slow motion. All three werewolves simultaneously shift and begin to run up the stairs towards them. Stiles reaches into the sack still tied at his waist and grabs the magic powder in his fist. Just as the first wolf reaches them and lunges for his neck, Stiles blows the dust into all their faces. He leans back just enough to avoid being slashed open by sharp claws and deadly fangs. 

All three wolves crumple to the ground at his feet and go tumbling down the stairs.

For a second all Stiles can do is stare. His whole body feels like it might be shaking apart. That was close. Too close. 

“We need to get out of here.” Stiles says with renewed urgency. Without anymore sleeping powder they’re truly vulnerable and Stiles plan to immobilize the Alpha is shot to hell. At least he has Erica. For now.

They hobble down the rest of the stairs and over the unconscious weres. Blessedly the rest of the factory seems to be abandoned. All the action seems to be going on outside. There’s gunshots and screams and Stiles shuts it all out- too afraid that one of his friends, his pack, is lying outside on the ground dead. 

By some miracle Stiles manages to get them all the way to the door. He turns Erica until her back is against the wall and helps her slide down to the ground. There’s not a single place his body isn’t aching with exhaustion. Muscles burn with the strain of using strength he doesn’t have, head spinning from a lack of exhaustion, chest pounding from the constant adrenaline high and stomach rolling with nausea. 

‘Just a little further,’ he tells himself. He can do this. He has to get Erica out.

He opens the door a slit and peeks out into the clearing. The sight is both terrifying and a relief at the same time. Everyone’s alive, but they’re being cornered, backed further and further away from the factory. There’s just too many of the beta’s for them to push through. Not from a lack of trying if the headless bodies are anything to go by. 

The good thing about their position is that all the attention is directed at them. Stiles hauls Erica to her feet again and they quickly make their escape from the building. The trek back to his jeep is a long one, and there’s a few times Stiles isn’t sure they’re going to make it. He’s so tired and all he wants to do is lay down on the forest floor and never get back up. He would have if so many lives weren’t depending on him.

The sight of his Jeep had never been such a wonderful thing and Stiles would get down and kiss her wheels if he had the energy. When he finally gets Erica inside the car and strapped in, he floors it all the way to the clearing- uncaring of who hears him. While it was a good ten minute hike on foot, it only takes him a minute to get back in the Jeep.

All eyes are on him and Stiles watches in sick satisfaction as Derek uses the distraction to rip the throat out of one of the betas with his teeth. Wow. So yeah, that really is scary. 

“Derek!” he yells. “I’ve got her! You’ve got to get out of here!” 

Derek looks from him to Erica in the passengers seat. The red in his eyes wants revenge, wants to sate his thirst for blood. Maybe once that would have scared Stiles but now he knows Derek will make the right choice for the pack. He will get them out of there. 

Stiles doesn’t wait for a response, does a one eighty and gets them the hell out of dodge. As he floors it back to the Hale house he sees several pairs of yellow eyes and one set of red following beside him. 

It isn’t until they’re all back and standing in Derek’s living room, does he finally feel like they’re safe. Erica’s been put on the couch and they’re all standing over her like worried mothers waiting for Deaton to arrive. Derek keeps splitting his concerned gaze between Stiles and Erica. 

Stiles knows he’s got a lecture coming, and that he kind of deserves it- but how can he feel guilty about what he did when he found Erica. She’s safe, and that’s all that matters right now.

His vision begins to swim a little and starts to go black around the edges. No matter how hard he fights it the black continues to consume him, until he can barely see anything at all and he vaguely gets the sensation of falling. 

The last thing he hears before the world goes black is someone calling his name. Then he hears Erica whisper,

“Victoria. Victoria Argent is the Alpha.”

\\\\\\*~*~*///

When Stiles comes to he feels like absolute shit. His head feels like someone is taking a jack hammer to it and his stomach feels like a punching bag. It’s like he’s dying, but then again- he is, so accurate description. 

It seems to take every ounce of strength in his body just to crack open one freaking eyelid. When he does finally manage it, Derek is sitting at the end of the bed. Derek’s bed he realizes. 

“You’re going to tell me what’s wrong,” Derek says. His back is hunched over, shoulders tight and Stiles is very sure he has on his “sour wolf” expression on right now. 

He knew this was coming. Is honestly surprised it’s taken this long for Derek to force an answer out of him. Part of him was hoping that with all the extra commotion going on his problems would be overlooked. However, after two years of growing up and getting over himself, Derek is better than that. He’s learned how to handle the multiple facets of a pack all at once and hardly anything escapes his attention. 

“Cancer,” Stiles grits out through his dry throat. It sounds weird saying it out loud. He hasn’t officially acknowledged what’s going on with his body since he got the news. “Same as my mom had,” he follows up. Because it seems important. 

“I’m sorry.” Derek says softly. It’s the same soft voice he uses when he’s talking about his own parents. It makes Stiles chest ache. 

A hush falls over the room and Stiles knows what Derek’s waiting for. It’s the same thing Stiles has been trying to work up the courage to do for weeks. It’s a simple question really- _‘Hey Derek, would you nibble on me a bit so I won’t die and instead become this super powerful creature I probably won’t be able to control?’_ Yeah. So easy.

“The full moon is tonight. It would be better-” Derek starts to say but drifts off. 

“We could wait until after we take care of the other pack. I don’t want to cause any problems right now.” Stiles tries, even though he knows it’s no use.

“I’ve already let you wait long enough.” Derek replies almost apologetically. 

Stiles clenches his eyes shut and forces himself to accept this. Ready or not, he can’t wait any longer. This disease is killing him from the inside out and if he waits much longer he’s taking the risk he’ll die before he can accept the idea of being a wolf.

He lets his breath whoosh from his lungs and slowly sits up. 

“I want you to give me the bite,” he says, forcing himself to say the words slowly and confidently. 

Derek turns and gives him a sad smile. “There’s something you need to know first. It doesn’t-- I’m still going to give you, but-- you deserve to know.” There’s a worried crease to his brow that Stiles is tempted to reach out and smooth away. 

“Gotta tell you, I’m kinda dying over here so there’s not much worse news you could give me.” He laughs and scootches back on the bed so he can lean against the headboard for support.

“That’s not funny.” Derek grumbles. He waits a few seconds before meeting Stiles gaze with a determined stare. “You’re my mate.”

Stiles stares right back, waiting for the punchline of the joke. When it doesn’t come, he shakes his head back and forth. “Wait, what?”

“You’re my mate. It doesn’t matter while you’re human, but when I turn you it will be-- very noticeable. You’ll be an Alpha of sorts. More powerful than a new werewolf usually is. The others will answer to you--”

Stiles puts his hand up to stop him. “Ok so first of all, what do you mean it doesn’t matter while I’m human? Yeah, Stiles, you’re only mated to the guy you’ve had a crush on for the past two years. No big deal. Just ignore it. Seriously? Not okay dude.”

“I’ve been trying.” Derek says with just a hint of embarrassment to his voice; something Stiles isn’t used to hearing from him.

Suddenly the movie night a few weeks ago makes a whole bunch more sense. “Wow. You deserve a medal for world’s worst flirt in the history of ever.”

Derek narrows his eyes at him and Stiles does his best to muffle the big guffaw of laughter that’s bubbling up his throat. 

“Are you ready?” Derek asks and moves to sit next to him. 

The mood quickly shifts from lighthearted to serious and Stiles takes a shaky breath. The second part of Derek’s confession comes back to the forefront of his thoughts and he’s not entirely sure he can do this. As if being a werewolf wasn’t bad enough, he’s going to be a newbie werewolf on crack. Just super awesome. 

“Promise me you won’t let me hurt anyone.” Stiles asks.

“You know I won’t.” Derek says and bumps their shoulders together. 

“My dad--”

“Will be perfectly fine. I’m more worried he’s going to kill me when he finds out about this. Are you sure you don’t want to tell him first?” 

Stiles vehemently shakes his head. “He’ll try and find an alternative and I can’t put him through that. Not after my mom. Not again.”

Derek nods in understanding and takes Stiles hand in his own. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Derek surprises him by leaning in and sealing their lips together. It’s wonderful, but not nearly enough and he pulls away all too soon. “This can be a good thing.” 

Stiles just nods absentmindedly, still focused on the tingle of his lips. He watches in fascination as Derek shifts and raises Stiles wrist to his mouth. He licks over Stiles skin which Stiles kind of doubts is necessary, but it feels good and calms him a little bit.  


  
[](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/006copie_zpsfda657bd.jpg.html)   


When the fangs sink down it hurts. _Really_ hurts. Fire spreads out over him and it keeps building and building until there’s no part of him that isn’t burning like an inferno. It consumes him, cleansing him from the inside out and then it’s suddenly all gone. The pain, the weakness, the tiredness.

He looks down and watches in amazement as the bite already begins to fade; getting smaller and smaller while Derek laps over it with his tongue.

“Wow.” Stiles mutters. He feels amazing. Like he had forgotten what it was like to not have his body hate him. It’s been so long since he’s been really healthy.

He pulls his arm back and rubs his thumb over the bite. Crazy how such a small thing can make such a big difference. In a few hours the moon will be up and Stiles will change for the first time. Terrifying thought really. 

Derek looks up at him and smiles. “Feel better?”

“Yeah, it’s healing so quick. I expected it to hurt longer.” Stiles says, unable to peel his gaze away from the fading bite.

“Full moons tonight. You’re technically already in the transition phase. It’s why I didn’t want to wait any longer. It will be easier on you like this and less chance of your body rejecting the bite.”

He had honestly forgot about the fact the bite could still kill him. He’d been so concerned with what would happen when he turned into a werewolf. Wouldn’t that just be ironic if the bite is what ended up doing him in.

“Hey, is Erica okay?” he asks, feeling like a jerk for not thinking to ask earlier.

“She’s fine. Deaton gave her something and she’s fully recovered. We do need to talk about what you were doing in that factory after I explicitly told you not to be there.”

Stiles smiles widely. “Would you believe if I told you I just happened to be in the area?”

Derek just stares at him.

“Hey, at least now when I run into dangerous situations I’ll be a super wolf.” It’s one of the only perks he can think of really. He stills feel incredibly nervous thinking about what’s going to happen to him tonight.

“That’s just it.” Derek says. There’s a controlled anger to his voice as he puts his hand on Stiles shoulder. “You’re going to be mine now. You’ve always been a part of this pack but I’ll be your Alpha and you can’t go off doing whatever you want unless your plan is to undermine my authority with everyone else.”

Stiles jaw clenches tight and he fights the urge to hide under a pillow. “I’m going to be a terrible werewolf.” He says, resigned. This was a fact he already knew, but it kind of sucks to have it confirmed already.

“No. But I’m going to need you to listen to me okay?”

“You know I trust you.” Stiles says immediately.

“I said you need you to listen to me. I know you trust me.” Derek says in response.

Stiles creases his forward and thinks about that for a minute. He hadn’t realized he’d been treating them as two separate things until now. Nor did he realize how that must look to the rest of the pack, or even Derek for that matter. “Only if you’ll actually listen to me too. My plans aren’t all bad. I got Erica out didn’t I?”

“Nearly at the cost of your own life.” Derek bites back.

“You were risking your life for her too last night so don’t pretend like I’m the only one putting myself in danger. I was worried about you too, but we did what had to be done, because we’re pack.”

Derek sets his jaw like he does when he knows someone is right, but doesn’t want to actually admit it. It’s one of Stiles favorite typical Derek expressions and it makes him smile in victory.

“So what are we going to do about Victoria?” Stiles asks, doing his best to avoid thinking about turning.The bite on his arm may be healing but it still throbs, a constant reminder of what’s to come.

“Kill her, like I should have the first time.”

“No really? I think we should shower her with love and kindness. Of course we’re going to kill her, I was more curious as to _how_.” His foot bounces unconsciously at the end of the bed as he tries to think of a solution. 

“How about we focus on one thing at a time right now. Lets get through your first full moon and then we’ll figure out how to take her down.”

Derek would choose now to be the voice of reality. Only a few short hours and he’ll be a full fledged werewolf. So not exciting.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

Stiles is nervously watching the suns decent as he runs smack dab into a wall of hard flesh. He stumbles backwards and lets out a small grunt.

“You have got to calm down. Your heart sounds like you’re having a panic attack.” Derek says over his shoulder and then proceeds to keep walking.

“Listen, why can’t I change in a nice little cage or something? I really don’t think it’s safe for the lovely people of Beacon Hills if I’m set loose in the forest my first go at this.” His gaze flits around the small clearing they’ve finally stopped in.

Nerves doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels at the moment. Physically he’s felt one hundred percent better since Derek gave him the bite, but emotionally he’s a mess. All he can think about are the ‘what ifs’. What if he kills his dad. What if he kills anyone. What if he ruins everything for the pack or Derek. He knows how to be the sarcastic human sidekick that does all the research. Not this though. He doesn’t know how to even begin to be a good werewolf.

“Stiles I want you to listen to me.” Derek’s voice is calm and reassuring, yet authoritative. There’s a small hint of his Alpha power gleaming in his eyes. “I know you asked for the bite, but I also know you would have waited until the last moment if you thought you had more time. If you don’t accept this it’s going to make it harder for you.”

“I know.” Stiles says, feeling defeated.

“I would have asked you to join my pack a long time ago if I had any hope you would have said yes. I hate the circumstances because I wanted this, me, to be wholly your choice. I’m still glad for it though. You’re smart and loyal, and you have the potential to be an amazing werewolf if you let yourself.”

The admission surprises Stiles. He had no idea Derek wanted him in his pack before this. He’s about to answer when a sharp stab of pain rockets up his spine.

“Shit!” Stiles shouts and doubles over.

“It’s started.” Derek says and Stiles would call him ‘Captain Obvious’ if he could you know- actually talk at the moment. The pain travels up to the base of his skull and throbs there. He can actually feel this foreign presence taking root there, demanding he give in. He wants to resist, to pull away and keep his body his own, but he knows that’s the wrong choice, so he lets go. Gives into the change.

The pain flares out over each limb, exploding through every pore until his whole body is radiating with pure agony. Bones shift under his skin and he can _feel_ them moving. His own screams reverberate in his ears and the coppery taste of blood fills his mouth from where he’s bit through his cheek. It keep on building and building until Stiles is certain he’s going to die, then it suddenly just disappears altogether. He can tell he’s shifted. His eyes burn from their glow, his ears feel more defined and pronounced and his claws scrape against his jeans.

Everything intensifies after that; he can hear every minute sound around him. There’s birds singing in a tree close by, crickets chirping in the summer night, two squirrels are arguing over a nut, the trees whistle in the wind and there’s a storm brewing out east. It’s _incredible_.

He takes a deep breath and _oh_ \--

the smells!

There’s so many of them, but one in particular is astounding. His eyes snaps open, instantly set on finding the source of that mouth watering scent.

Derek is still standing in front of him, watching him curiously and with a little bit of caution. He can’t focus on that though because _Derek_ is the source of the smell and he wants to devour him. He steps over and nuzzles into his neck. It’s the strongest there and Stiles gets lost in it; completely overwhelmed by how perfect it is. Before he can think about it, he darts his tongue out to run up the length of Derek’s neck. Derek growls low in his throat and it makes Stiles whole body shake with want.

Before he catalogues the action, he’s pulling Derek’s shirt up and over his head and tossing it onto the ground.

So much better.

He leans in and kisses Derek, loving how the smell is concentrated into an actual taste there. Once he’s satisfied he pulls back and licks over each nipple and bites at them until the skin around them is red with irritation. Needing more, he grazes his nose across Derek’s chest and buries it in his armpit. He wants to howl for how amazing he smells there.  


  
[](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/007copie_zpse897462d.jpg.html)   


so good.” Stiles whines and grinds down into Derek’s lap. It’s been since never that Stiles has had his cock so close to someone elses and he’s straining in his jeans. He was worried this whole primal instincts thing would be a really terrible ordeal, but he is _so_ on board with this idea.

Once he’s started moving his hips, he can’t seem to stop. The friction is addicting and Stiles never ever wants it to end. Suddenly he realizes Dereks lips look like the most delicious thing he’s ever seen, so he swoops down and presses his mouth to them. He tastes really fucking incredible. Stiles licks across his lips and nibbles at the corners of his mouth.

Derek moans underneath him and grabs onto his hips. He uses them as leverage to force their cocks together with every thrust of their hips. The wires in Stiles brain short circuit and all he can do is cling to Derek’s shoulders as he climbs higher and higher and suddenly he’s coming in his jeans with a shout.

He’d feel a little bit embarrassed about the whole ordeal, but Derek is coming apart underneath him at the same time, and it just feels so amazing that he can’t be bothered to feel anything but sated.

Strangely enough he doesn’t actually feel tired. To the contrary it feels like he could jump up and sprint a mile if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to though. He wants to curl inside of Derek’s skin and never ever leave.

“I’ve wanted that for a very long time.” Derek says and it breaks Stiles reverie. There’s something about the way he says it. Like he wanted this specifically, not just Stiles.

He realizes that Derek never would have told him about being mates, probably not even if they got together. Not only that, but Derek was willing to let him stay human even though this has to be so much better for him. A mate that will age at the same rate, someone who isn’t breakable and someone who can fully understand the wolf side.

Derek is really kind of incredible.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

The next couple of days are strange. Being a werewolf isn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Besides the fact he’s pulled off nearly every door handle in the house (he can’t seem to accept the fact that he’s powerful now), he’s coping pretty well. Derek thinks it’s because Stiles already knew what to expect and partially because he accepted the bite for his anchor (his dad) so it kept him grounded.

Stiles just likes to think he’s awesome.

For some reason he thought being a werewolf would be like having two identities inside him at the same time, dueling for control. It’s nothing like that though. It’s more like all his normal urges are intensified. Not so bad as long as he keeps them in check.

His mind is blessedly quiet for once. The ADHD is gone and he’s able to focus much more easily. There’s a new ability to think before he speaks if he wants. He ignores it most of the time, but it’s nice to have a filter if he wants one. The new distraction is his heightened senses. If not for years of practice functioning in a constant state of chaos, it would be easy to get lost in it all. He can hear, see and smell so much more than before. It’s like when he was a kid and had no idea how blind he was until he had to get glasses and later contacts. His eyes are open to an entire new world and it’s incredible.

Resisting the need to climb Derek like a freaking tree is the most difficult of his instincts to control. It’s not Stiles fault that he smells so mouthwatering delicious. The pack has been relentless with snide remarks and he’s heard ‘get a room!’ more times than he can count, but he really doesn’t care. He’s discovered that sex, especially really super hot amazing stamina werewolf sex, is pretty much the best thing ever.

_Ever_.

Right now he’s standing in front of Derek’s bathroom mirror poking at his fangs.

So. Cool.

He contracts them back in then forces them through his gums as slowly as possible. It’s a little painful that way, but it’s fascinating. He could spend all day doing this.

“Your dad called again.”

Stiles let his fangs click back up into place as he whips around to face Derek who’s casually leaning against the doorframe.

“Can’t we just keep it a secret forever?” Stiles asks wistfully. He knows he needs to face his dad. But telling him about becoming a werewolf means telling him about the cancer and he doesn’t want to do that. He’s afraid it will mean his dad staying up too late and drinking too much. Afraid it will break something between them that he won’t be able to repair.

“You know he’s just going to be happy you’re ok.” Derek says in an attempt to cheer him up.

Stiles scoffs and rolls his eyes at that. “Yeah, right after he gets done chewing me out for lying to him and keeping pack business a secret again.”

“Yeah. After that.” Derek says with a smile. It takes Stiles breath away. With his improved vision he can see every little tiny crinkle around his eyes and the distinct way his skin puffs up over his cheekbones to make them all round and perfect. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s something I have to do on my own.” Stiles says morosely. “I’ll go after training.”

They both head outside and join the rest of the pack. Scott and Isaac are sitting on a log talking quietly. Stiles is tempted to listen in, but he refrains from it. Since becoming a werewolf he’s discovered that Scott and Isaac are definitely more than friends, their scents are all over each other. When he had asked Scott about it he had gotten defensive at first until Stiles told him he just wanted to tell him it was about damn time. After that Scott hadn’t been able to shut up about Isaac-this and Isaac-that. It was even worse than when he had been with Allison and that was saying something!

Jackson was in the corner warming up. His strict regiment from Lacrosse transfered well into his werewolf side. He was disciplined and always ready to try harder. It was the one thing about Jackson Stiles admired.

“Let’s go!” Derek shouts. 

Erica and Boyd come running in from the woods, smiles on their faces and smelling far too much like a good time. Nearly losing Erica had been really hard on Boyd and they’ve been even more inseparable than usual ever since they got her back. It’s nice though, seeing them both so happy.

Unlike when Derek first put the pack together, drills have become a welcomed thing. A cornerstone in what it means to be pack. Without further instruction everyone moves seamlessly through the routine. They begin by breaking into sets of two or three and begin to spar. 

According to the many times Scott complained to him, Derek usually sits on the sidelines and watches them all, yelling suggestions every once and awhile on how to improve their form. Since Stiles has been turned though, Derek has been working with him one on one.

In these moments they’re pack Alphas. Focused on bettering themselves and all their members. 

“Same as we practised yesterday. Focus on your strength, direct your power.” Derek instructs.

Stiles does his best to listen.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

He knows it’s bad when his dad doesn’t say anything to him when he walks in. Just pulls out a chair at the table and sits down across from it. There’s a tumbler with a bit of whiskey sitting in front of him. A quick glance confirms there’s no bottle in sight so that’s a plus.

It’s been a long time since he’s been this scared. He expects a panic attack to come on, but his breath is still relatively even.

Oh right. Werewolf.

“You’re going to tell me where you’ve been and everything you’ve lied about in the past couple months.” The tone is one his dad reserves for I’m-not-fucking-around situations. It’s a unique mix of disappointment and anger that lances straight through Stiles heart.

With a resigned sigh Stiles sits down in the chair. He’s thought about what to say since he first heard about the cancer. How he would do it, the details, all his dad’s possible reactions. Usually the anticipation of a hard talk is worse than the actual thing, but he isn’t so sure about this one.

He opens his mouth to say something a few times, but the words won’t come out. Swallowing thickly, he forces himself to talk. “I kept getting these migraines. I thought it was just stress or something but it wouldn’t go away. Finally the nurse told me she was going to involve you if I didn’t see a doctor.”

“Why would you keep something like that from me?” John leans forward in his seat and his brow creases into worry lines.

“Because I didn’t think it was a big deal, and I didn’t want you to worry,” he answers honestly.

They sit in silence for a while until it becomes apparent his dad isn’t going to say anything else and it’s up to Stiles to move the conversation along.

God. He wants to freeze this moment. Keep everything the way they are for forever. Never have to worry his dad again. Never have to worry _about_ his dad worrying about him. Sadly that’s not the way it works.

“When I went to the doctor’s office they ran a bunch of tests and--” Old pain, raw emotions that Stiles never examines too closely come rushing back to the surface and he feels like he’s back in that hospital ten years earlier. Sitting by his mother’s bedside as she slowly slips away.

“I had the same thing as mom, and I’m sorry- I’m so sorry dad, but I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t let you watch me die.” Tears gather in the corner of his eyes, but he refuses to cry. His jaw clenches tight and he balls his hands up into fists under the table. Deep breaths in and out, in and out- he can do this.

“What did you do?” John asks, sounding broken.

Stiles did that. _Stiles_ is the one causing all this pain and he hates himself for it.

There’s no way he can put into the words the decision he had to make. The choice he made for them both. So rather than trying to find a way to tell him, he slowly raises his head until his eyes lock with his fathers. The first tear falls unbidden down his cheek as he lets his fangs sink down. He can feel the power coursing through his veins; changing his outer composition. Basic instincts becomes almost second nature in this form and Stiles is still scared he won’t be able to control it, so he quickly shifts back.

“Why didn’t you talk to me first? We could have found another way.”

He sounds broken and defeated and it’s tearing Stiles apart. Somewhere he finds the courage to look him in the eye before talking again. “There wasn’t any time.”

A sob tears from his fathers lips as he sits back in the chair and rubs a hand over his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He says and nods his head. “Yeah,” he repeats as if to reassure himself. “I was scared I wouldn’t be able to control it, but it’s easier than I thought it would be. I’m still me, just more.”

“Derek should have asked me first.” John says and Stiles can see the anger creeping into his eyes, looking for someone, anything to blame for what’s happened to his son.

“He wanted to, I wouldn’t let him.” Stiles says and watches as the anger slowly dissipates with the lack of a target.

They sit in silence for a while, Stiles able to control his rambling mouth for once, brain blessedly silent. A hundred different emotions cross his dad’s face until it finally settles into acceptance. Stiles eyes track how his shoulders relax, his jaw slackens just a little bit and he lets out a deep breath.

“I suppose it’s a good thing with how often you get into trouble.” He says finally and Stiles breaks into a smile.

“What do I need to do? Do we need to make a full moon proof room in the basement? I know a couple of the guys in the construction business and I could pass it off as a panic room.”

“The pack runs together every full moon, I’ll be going with them. Derek will keep me in line if he needs to. Last night was okay though. I didn’t want to hurt anyone and it was kind of awesome.”

John nods and sits back in his chair. “So I guess you and Derek are finally together then?”

Stiles eyes go wide and he maybe flails just a little bit in surprise. How would his dad know about them? His instinct to run away from this conversation is suddenly taken to the extreme and he has to grip the sides of his chair to keep himself in place. Claws dig into the wood and he knows this is the flight part of the fight or flight animal instinct, but it’s just so strong, it consumes him for a second.

His dad chuckles across the table and takes a sip of his whiskey. Cheeky son of a bitch.

“How did you know?” Stiles asks once he feels his nails return to their normal length.

“Derek told me earlier this year. Asked if it would be ok to, ‘woo you’ is the way he put it I think.”

The mental image of that conversation is hilarious and Stiles can’t help but burst out laughing. “I guess you told him yes? You’re a pretty awesome dad.”

“I try, but you sure do make it hard sometimes kid.” John says with a resigned little shake of his head.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Stiles says and means it. He never meant to put them through all of this. It was his idea to go traipsing through the woods all those years ago in search of a dead body. Now his life is full of the supernatural and there is no turning back. The only regret he has is putting his dad through all the extra stress.

“No more lies.” John says as he fixes Stiles with one of those parent stares that makes him want to cower away and do whatever he says. Just so he stops looking at him like he’s going to tan his hide if he ever messes up again.

“I promise,” Stiles says in agreement.

It feels amazing to get everything off his chest and out in the open. He should have known his dad would be amazing about everything. Stiles just wishes it hadn’t come to this in the first place.

\\\\\\*~*~*///

“I’m proud of you.” Derek whispers to him in bed later that night.

Stiles dad had agreed to let him come and go from the house as he pleased so long as he kept going to school and graduated in the spring. It was a good thing considering Stiles really didn’t want to be away from Derek’s side much.

“Thanks. I’m kind of proud of me too.” He says back. He honestly hadn’t thought things would be so wonderful after the change, but now he can’t imagine being anything but a wolf.

He snakes his hand over to Derek’s thigh. The house is quiet tonight. Everyone else has gone home and Isaac is staying over at the McCall’s. 

Stiles slides his hand a little further over and runs his fingers over the hard outline of Derek’s cock. A few weeks ago he never imagined this could be possible. Now he gets to do whatever he wants with Derek. It’s surreal. He hadn’t expected to be the kind of guy that gets a happy ending. His life just doesn’t work that way. Until now, apparently. 

He rolls over on top of Derek and grinds down into his lap. “We’re alone you know.”

“I suppose we are.” Derek agrees and flips them over, pinning Stiles to the bed. 

Their bodies stretch out along each other, hot skin pressed against hot skin. There’s no part of him let untouched by Derek and it fills him with contentment and peace. Derek’s scent is overwhelming and all-consuming. He had no idea scents could have so many layers or effect on him. It’s astounding. 

Within the blink of an eye their clothes are gone, probably shredded on the floor, and Derek has his mouth pressed firmly against Stiles own. Whereas the cool night air might have once made him cold, he now feels almost overheated as they slide together. 

Derek’s tongue pries open his lips and explores freely. The first few times they kissed Stiles felt akin to a drooling dog; doing nothing more but letting his mouth hang open. Derek just tastes so good and it can be more than distracting. 

Eventually he pulls back and puts his hands on Stiles hips. “On your knees.” 

A quiver runs through his stomach at the words and he immediately flips over, presenting himself for Derek. Breath ghosts over his back and across his sides as Derek moves down the bed, positioning himself better. 

Stiles gasps as Derek darts out his tongue and laps at his sensitive hole. The change takes over him before he realizes it- nails, fangs and ears lengthening. He had tried to hold the shift back once but Derek had told him not to worry about. They don’t have to hold back since they’re both werewolves. It’s a good thing because trying to keep himself in check while Derek is being some kind of crazy sex god is next to impossible. 

Derek flicks over him a few more times before he pulls back and a lubed finger replaces his tongue. Ever so slowly he pushes inside, being far too gentle for Stiles tastes. With the werewolf healing pain is now a temporary thing and it’s made him far too impatient- as if that’s a surprise. 

“More,” Stiles rasps and shoves his hips back in invitation. 

The finger disappears and all at once Derek is pushing inside. It stings a little, but the displeasure is quickly replaced by euphoria. Once fully seated inside him, Derek bends down and covers Stiles back with his body. A howl escapes his throat at the raw pleasure coursing through him. Having his Alpha, his _mate_ , filling him so wholly takes his breath away. 

Finally Derek pulls back and pushes into him forcefully. Every thrust of his hips makes Stiles moan with the need for more. Claws drag along his sides and he can’t contain a full body shiver. 

“You’re mine.” Derek whispers at the nape of his neck as he wraps his hand around Stiles cock and begins to pump him in time with the snap of his hips. There’s power in his words, and a promise. The force of it has Stiles coming all over Derek’s hand and the bed. His own scream rattles in his ears and his arms go weak. 

“Yes.” Derek hisses just before he tenses and comes deep inside Stiles. The claws dig into Stiles side and he winces a little, though still enjoying the lack of control on Derek’s part. He’s the only one that gets to see it. 

They collapse down on the bed, spooning up close together. 

“Give me five and we can do that again.” Stiles says with a smirk.

Oh yeah. Sex is fucking _fantastic_!

\\\\\\*~*~*///

“For the record, I think this is a terrible idea.” Stiles whispers to Derek.

“I don’t care.” Derek whispers back.

The whole pack is hunkered down in the thinning brush outside of Victoria’s base.

Victoria has too many beta’s for them to fight through so Derek came up with the ingenious plan to challenge her to an old fashioned duel to the death between the two Alpha’s like some scene out of a western movie. Settle their feud once and for all rather than cause any more needless deaths. In theory it makes sense, Stiles can’t deny the logic. That doesn’t change the fact he doesn’t want to see his mate battle another alpha werewolf.

Also hypothetically it should be easy for Derek. He’s a born werewolf that knows how to use his power. Victoria has numbers on her side though, made stronger by the sheer amount of betas she’s recruited into her pack. Not to mention crazy. She definitely has crazy on her side.

“We can figure something out.” Stiles tries again.

“No time.” Derek says, and Stiles can’t help but see the irony in the same words he used on his father being repeated back to him. It stings and Stiles knows there’s not going to be any changing of Derek’s mind. Not that it’s a big surprise. Stubborn werewolf.

Stiles nods in acceptance and squeezes Derek’s shoulder, “Then go kick her ass.”

Derek pulls him in for a kiss and Stiles pulls him in close by the collar of his shirt, ignoring the disgusted groans from behind them. When they break apart Derek stands up and walks into the clearing with a white cloth waving.

“I want to talk to Victoria. It’s time we settle this face to face!”

The werewolves all freeze and look at him in confusion. They’re all hesitant and seem unsure of whether to go get their Alpha or try and tear his head off while they have the chance.

Every circuit in Stiles body is thrumming with unrestrained energy. He hates seeing Derek alone out there. He wants to go stand at his mates side.

For a few tense seconds no one moves and Stiles is worried they’re going to have to run for their lives. _Again_. Then the door to the factory bangs open and Victoria comes strutting out. There’s not a scared looking bone in her body’ standing tall and proud as she stalks towards the center of the clearing.  


  
[](http://s1090.beta.photobucket.com/user/clovergirl410/media/005copie_zps1ba8ff8f.jpg.html)   


The betas part for her, all bowing their heads submissively. Stiles understands pack dynamics more than ever now that he’s an actual wolf, but the way she so obviously uses her power to control her pack through fear and intimidation is sickening.

“Derek.” Victoria says, and it rolls of her tongue like a death sentence. Her eyes glow an intense red and her features begin to shift. “Had I known you’d offer your head on a silver platter I would have just asked.” She motions for him to join her in the circle the betas have created around her.

Derek drops the cloth he had been holding and walks forward to meet her. Once he’s inside Stiles steps forward out of the woods.

“You have your witnesses, and so we will witness for Derek to ensure a fair fight.” Every eye turns to him, but he can only focus on Victoria, shaken by the cold calculation of her weighted gaze. Eventually she nods her consent and his pack slowly emerges from the woods to join the already formed circle. Derek had wanted them to stay away in case he lost; knowing they would be masacarred on the spot; but Stiles had refused. Without them standing as witnesses there was no reason for Victoria to simply have her betas hold him down while she tore out his heart.

As they make their way forward they trade growls and bare fangs at the other pack. Bumping shoulders and attempting to exert dominance over each other. When they’re all finally settled a hush falls over the clearing.

Victoria and Derek circle each other over and over again. Assessing each other’s strengths and weaknesses, sizing up their opponent. Derek’s learned a lot over the years and Stiles is proud of him for thinking things through and not barreling ahead for once. With a smug twisted smiled, Victoria is the first to move. She lunges forward and goes straight for Derek’s throat. He anticipates the attack and throws her to the ground.

Stiles smiles and does a little fist bump (which gets him several unappreciative glares). He can hear Derek in his head screaming at all of them to never be predictable. Good to see Victoria never got that lesson.

She’s quick back to her feet and menacingly snarls at Derek. For a second time she charges him, logic blinded by her hatred. Every decision she makes is rash and Stiles is hoping it’s going to get her killed.

Derek stops her with a hand on her chest, picks her up and throws her down to the ground. Bones crack and Stiles can hear the breath whoosh out of her lungs. Derek pulls his hand back to deliver the final blow, but Victoria gets her feet underneath him and _pushes_. There’s enough force behind it to send Derek flying across the clearing. He lands on his back with a loud thump and continues to slide through the grass and dirt. Moving through the harsh throw, Derek does a back roll, pushes up to a handstand and flips back up to his feet. His eyes narrow and then he’s taking off at a full sprint for Victoria. She matches his speed and they’re running for each other full throttle. The betas move out of their way and the clearing goes quiet just like the calm before the storm.

Stiles expects a collision, but at the last second Derek slides to his knees and extends out his arm- sending Victoria spinning forward through the air. She lands on her back, a sick breaking sound filling the night air.

Both Alphas stand and face either. Victoria’s arm is obviously broken, hanging lip and twisted at her side. She reaches across her body with her good arm and, with a face as cold as steal, pops the bone back into place. There’s gashes across her shins from where Derek’s claws caught her. Blood oozes down her pants and pools at her feet.

With more caution, though no less confidence, Victoria slowly approaches Derek. He remains still, calculating, as she circles him. She’s trying to figure out his weakness.

Stiles heart beats wildly in his chest, completely believing in Derek’s abilities, but terrified she’s going to find some hole in Derek’s defense.

She moves to strike again, but Derek quickly doges to the right, out of the way. Unfortunately that was exactly what she was expecting and she moves behind him, gathering his arms behind his back to restrain him. In this position her superior strength is advantageous and Derek’s obviously struggling to get out of her grasp. He moves from side to side, but the more he moves, the tighter she pulls his arms behind him. Stiles hears the moment one, then the other of Derek’s shoulder dislocate. The sound fills his stomach with dread.

Victoria maneuvers them around until Derek is facing his pack. “I want all of you to watch as I kill your Alpha.”

Stiles is just about to rush forward, consequences be damned, when his eyes lock with Derek’s. “Trust me,” he mouths.

Stiles does trust Derek, has for a long time now, so he gulps down all the fear and takes a step back.

As Victoria transfers both of Derek’s wrists to one hand to prepare for a mortal blow, Derek gives him one last smile, crouches low and does a backflip right over her head. Stiles mouth drops open as Derek’s whole arm drives through Victoria’s chest. Her eyes go wide in surprise then the life begins to flicker.

“Kill them all!” she shouts just before Derek rips off her head and throws it across the yard. Derek tips his head back and lets out a triumphet growl.

Then all hell breaks loose. Some of the betas take off into the woods, others stand in shock and a few of them snarl at Derek.

“Listen!” Derek commands in his Alpha voice.

The force of it causes a shiver to run down Stiles’ spine and even if the order wasn’t meant for him, he feels a persuasion to heed Derek.

“I’m sure Victoria forced this on many of you. That is not the way it’s supposed to be done. This life should have been your choice. So I’ll give you a choice now. You can leave and be on your own, try being a lone beta in the world, or you can become a part of my pack. We don’t hurt humans and we control our instincts. If that’s something you want, you’re welcome here.”

A few of the younger wolves leave, backs fading away into the forest. It makes Stiles sad, because he’s seen what happens to lone wolves. He knows it’s unlikely they’ll make it even a year on their own. No pack, no family, no safety.

The rest of the werewolves study Derek carefully, then one by one come and kneel in front of him. Heads bowed submissively they accept Derek as their Alpha. Stiles feels it the instant the new bonds are complete; increased power surges through him and tingles his nerves. They’ve just added at least fifteen new members to the pack. Power means safety in the Supernatural world and Stiles feels they’ve just made a major step in keeping their little corner of it protected.

Everyone rises together and Stiles steps forward to join Derek at his side. Together as a pack they tip their heads back and let out a collective howl.

\\\\\~ **Epilogue** ~///

Summer BBQ’s have always been one of Stiles’ favorites, this year even more so with the new status of highschool graduate and werewolf. He sits on the porch and watches with merriment as Scott and Isaac flirt shamelessly over the grill. They have a strong disagreement over who is the better cook and no one else in the pack is willing to pick sides. Besides the ongoing argument just means more food for everyone else. It makes Stiles exuberantly happy to see them together after denying it for so long. It also means they are much more tolerant of Stiles and Derek’s relationship. Far too engrossed in each other to care about anything else.

Jackson and Danny finally got their act together too. They’re sitting at one of the picnic tables fully engrossed in their conversation. It took forever for Jackson to admit it to anyone even though the whole pack knew it was going to happen and had been waiting for nearly two whole years for Jackson to pull his head out of his ass. No real surprise there.

Mrs. McCall is sitting with his dad and Stiles has a feeling there’s going to be a wedding sooner or later. They haven’t officially come out and said they’re dating, but everyone knows it’s bound to happen. John looks up over his plate and waves at him. Such a dork still. Stiles waves back and gives him a ‘stop being embarrassing smile’.

Some of the new pack members are playing LaCrosse, having been instantly intrigued with the sport they hadn’t really seen before. Most of them had been football fans, but that was quickly changed once Jackson and Scott got ahold of them.

A few of Victoria’s old pack had decided this life wasn’t for them and Derek had let them go willingly, but most had stayed and Stiles couldn’t imagine not having them in their lives now.

“What are you doing over here by yourself?” Derek asks and sits down next to him.

“Just taking it all in.” Stiles says with a smile. “It’s kind of incredible what you’ve done here, you know?”

“I had a little bit of help.” Derek replies.

“A little bit? Hah! You’d be dead like a hundred times over without me!” Stiles says and jabs his elbow into Derek’s side.

“Do you regret it?” Derek asks, looking far off, “Having to become a wolf?”

“You know I don’t. In a way I’m glad I was forced into it. I didn’t know what I was missing.” Stiles says as he puts a hand on Derek’s thigh.

The corner of Derek’s lips turn up and he covers Stiles hand with his own. “Let’s go join the others.” He stands and laces their fingers together, pulling Stiles up with him.

“Sure, but I’m going to beat you at horseshoes this time sir.” Stiles says as he stands and walks with his mate towards the party.

Stiles knows this is just the beginning for them. That there will always be a new threat to the pack, some sort of danger that seems impossible to overcome. As it is he’s already gone through a complete metamorphosis in the three years he’s been part of the supernatural world. 

Still, he knows that no matter what comes for them or how perilous the situation, they’ll all face it together as a pack.

As family.

****

END


End file.
